Drizelda's Awakening
by InnerFire
Summary: WoW. How do you get a Forsaken Priest? When they awaken as zombies, why do they get to keep thier Holy powers? Is it possible for them to still do some good? And, can a young, sheltered missionary rise to the task?
1. Recollections Part 1

**Author's note: Hey, everybody. This is my first time posting here, so if I goof up on anything, please let me know.**

**Anyway, this is the backstory for my WoW character, Drizelda. I didn't know what to make, and my friend (I was using her computer at the time) insisted I make a girl. An undead priest just seemed like the weirdest mix, so I made that. Then I started to think how priests could keep their powers after they were undead...**

**(Also, Drizelda is on the Alexstrasza sever, so if you play on that, she usually hangs around UC and Silverpine at the moment. I'm trying to quit though, so I'm not on too much anymore ;)**

Drizelda awoke in cold, clammy place, that was dark and silent, save for the guttering of a torch in the corner. She seemed to be lying on a stone bed, and she had no idea where she was or why she was here. She sat, and on instinct, called, "Hello?" No response. She was in an empty, stone room that felt as if it were underground. "Hello?" No response. "HELLO??!?!" Only the sputtering of the torch greeted her. She thought back…she was supposed to have been on a ship…going back home… Beginning to panic, she tried to calm herself down. 'Ok', she told herself. 'No reason to be worried. I'm sure there's an explanation here to all of this.' As she got up and made her way across the room on legs that felt strangely unsteady, she told herself, 'Ok, think. What's the last thing you remember?'

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Drizelda thought back to her departure. She stood on the gangway up to the ship, waving her final goodbye to all the friends she had met. It had been a long six months, long and hard, but well worth it. Even now, she had become so accustomed to it that she could not believe she was leaving Avenglade. As she went below decks and began stowing away her things, she reflected on her time there.

She had barely had a moment to rest ever since setting foot in Avenglade. The Church of Hathor had recently decided to expand there, and it was only her and a few other devoted missionaries who had chosen to go, with no support, no knowledge of the town nor its people, and little money. Everyone from her abbey had scoffed at the choice, saying it was bad territory and impossible with no established church already there.

Drizelda smiled as she remembered her reply, 'How was the first church established before there was one?'

And establish one they had. They had all worked long hours on lowly jobs to afford the money for the building (she preferred not to remember that part, and quickly skimmed over it). Then, they had spent their time frequenting the town square, getting friends, and making themselves known (being a bookworm by nature, Drizelda never was very good at that). Enlisting help from the other clerics proved to be a mixed experience (that was the last time she ever looked twice at anybody from Lathan's group) but in the end, they rallied the support they had needed, and when the doors opened, things went better than any of them had expected. Despite her Sister's warnings from the abbey, it was actually very _good_ territory, because there was a high Elf population, and Hathor had always been allied with the forces of nature. Things had been running smoothly for a month before she noticed that her pilgrimage was done. She had made so many new friends, despite her lack of social grace, that she had all but forgotten everything from before. Well, save one man…

She looked out the porthole, and realized that they had left the docks and they were no longer in sight. She thought back to her trip to Avenglade with a smile, remembering how she had been so nervous and preoccupied. Now, she was preoccupied with something else…

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She stumbled through the dark chamber, hearing only the guttering torch in the corner. She thought she saw, in the dim light, what looked like stone stairs carved into the wall in front of her, and hurriedly lurched towards them. 'Why don't my legs work right?' one part of her mind inquired. 'What happened then?!', screamed another

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Driselda looked out over the ship's railing, letting the fresh sea air blow through her hair and into her lungs. She was enjoying the ship, but she could hardly wait for the ride to be over. She was torn. On the one had, she was immensely pleased with how things had gone in Avenglade. Scrounging up the money for the building, desperately attempting to be social when she didn't have clue, and having to deal with other clerics when you never knew when they would be sympathetic or ready to bite your head off…those last few months had been the hardest time of her life. The real world came as a real shock after being locked up in an abbey for so long. But, the reward, the new church, the new friends; was also the most satisfying thing she had ever received. Well, except for Richard, of course.

She had tried not to think of him much the entire time. And every try was an absolute failure. She missed her family and friends back home, of course, but Richard was the worst. At times, she couldn't believe that she had left on this silly pilgrimage when she could be with him instead. Of course, those thoughts were foolish; he himself had insisted that she go. And, Hathor, it seemed, had been pulling her in that direction. Those thoughts had always been swept quickly away when something else came up for her to do but now, on the ship, there was nothing to keep her mind off of him.

And therein lay the problem. She laughed out loud, drawing some looks from the ship's crew. 'What a beautiful thing it is', she thought to herself, 'to be torn between amazing memories of all that's gone on these past few months, all my friends, and precious memories of my one and only Richard.' She whirled around, looked up into to the blazing sky above, and laughed to herself again. Everything was perfect. Hathor had truly smiled upon her. She made up her mind to stop thinking about the past and start thinking about the future. And that meant Richard. Lost in her daydreams, she went below decks, to her pack. At the very bottom, in a hidden pouch, was Richard's necklace. She clasped it tight, dreaming of her new life with him. Before she went to sleep, she thanked Hathor, for the umpteenth time that day, for giving her a man so wonderful.

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"Richard…" a wheeze barely left her mouth. "Richard, where are you?! Where am I?!" 'What happened?!' she screamed in her mind once more.

* * *


	2. Recollections Part 2

She awoke to being knocked off her bed by a particularly big wave. She grumbled as she got to her feet; she didn't mind ships, but she would never get used to them. She was about to get back in her bed and go back to sleep, but she caught a glance out the porthole, and what she saw turned her blood to ice.

They were caught in a raging storm, lightning spewed everywhere. 'Why didn't I wake up?!' was her first thought. 'I didn't see any clouds yesterday.' was her second.

She was about to rush out the door to go and see the captain, but she stopped herself. A voice called out from the back of her mind, and it was the voice of the head Sister from the abbey, during the speech she gave to all the new initiates, "We clerics are weak in this world. We do not know how to fight, how to live by our wits, how to manipulate the elements or wield sorcery, or even how to live in the wild. The only thing we know is the will of Hathor, and how he can work through us to achieve his goals."

Another voice, this time of her friend Matilla, who she had just left, "Don't worry about whether we can do this or not. I know the going's rough right now, but Hathor is always with us. If he wants this to work, then he'll make sure it does. If he couldn't care less about this mission or Avenglade, then it just means we're here for a different reason than we thought. So, just keep at it, and we'll see what happens."

And finally, Richard, "I'm putting my trust in Hathor to keep you safe and bring you back. If you do the same, I'm sure we'll be standing here together within the year. Just you wait and see. And, don't worry, I'll be waiting for you."

With those thoughts, she stepped back from the door. She couldn't help anybody by running around the ship like a loon. What she _could _do would be to ask for Hathor to keep the ship safe. She sat down slowly to calm her nerves, trying to keep the sounds of the crew running on the deck and the lighting crashing outside from her ears. As she began to concentrate on meditation, she felt something she never had before. Reaching deeper, she tried to pick up on what it was. Still, she drew a blank, only noticing that there was a strong presence near the ship.

It hit her all at once. It was like reaching under a bush, feeling something soft, and grabbing a wolf's tail. Although nothing hit her physically, the realization made her lose her balance even without the ship's tossing. At that moment, a particularly huge wave caught the ship, and it pitched fast and steep. Drizleda practically flew across the room, and smashed her head soundly on the wall.

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She had indeed reached stairs, and she clambered up them, one by one, step by step. 'So, I got knocked out. There has to be more! I have to know! Where am I?!'

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She hazily opened her eyes, and looked around. She saw blood on the floor from where she had smashed her head. She looked woozily around, and immediately noticed something off about the room. Groggily, she lay there for a while, feeling utterly pathetic. Some help she was. Here, the ship was being assaulted by the undead Scourge in a storm of their making, with Hathor probably being their only means of escape, and she had fallen down and knocked herself out. Pathetic was a far too generous a word to use. She stewed in her own guilt for a while, feeling too foolish and worthless to even try to ask Hathor for assistance. 'Why would Richard even want somebody as pathetic as me?', the question rolled through her mind.

She kept at this for a while, but she eventually realized that she _had_ been tossed across the room, and noticed that the fog in her head seemed to have a lot to do with her current mindset. She took a moment to get ahold of herself, then, very slowly, got to her feet. Without noticing that she still clutched Richard's necklace in her white knuckled palm, she slowly walked towards the door.

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'I was on the ship! Where am I now!?' "Hathor", she muttered, "Where am I now?"

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As soon as she opened the door, that feeling that something was off came back. All of a sudden, she noticed it; the ship wasn't moving. It was stuck at a slight tilt, but it was definitely as still as a stone floor. Not even the slightest amount of tossing. A glance out the porthole confirmed the fear that had already begun to build; they were shipwrecked. 'Which is good,' she told herself. 'We're out of the storm.' That feeling lasted until she remembered that it was no ordinary storm, and the Scourge were certainly lurking nearby.

With that thought, she hurriedly reached into her pack and pulled out her mace. She had never used it, but each cleric was required to carry one for just such an emergency. 'As if it will do me any good.' she grumbled. With a quick murmur to Hathor, she set off for the deck.

Once she reached it the top of the ship's stairs, she saw slow, shuffling forms covering the fog-shrouded deck. Zombies. The Scourge were here. Gripping her mace, she quietly set off towards the captain's quarters, on the off chance that he hadn't been found. As she stole swiftly and quietly across the deck, she heard loud moans and curses. She could barely make out a party of attackers on the ground beneath the ship. She couldn't tell who they were through the fog, but they were definitely attacking the Scourge. Then, somebody hit her from behind, and all was blackness.

* * *


	3. Determination

As she reached to top of the stone stairs, she knew that was the limit of her memory. 'Perhaps I'm in a bandit camp', she thought hopefully. 'Even the Orcs would be better than the Scourge.' She consoled herself with these thoughts, but in her heart she knew that this was no bandit camp. She saw someone standing by the top of the stairs, and quickly ran over to him. Perhaps now she could get some answers. He was looking away from her, so she quickly tapped his shoulder. As soon as he turned around she could tell something was horribly wrong.

His flesh was too pale for even a scholar, and his eyes glowed yellow.

He sighed, "So young. And so fragile. A pity." His voice sounded like it was coming out over sandpaper. Or a disused throat.

Never having seen the Scourge up close, she had no idea. Getting over her initial shock at his odd appearance, and with no other recourse, she quickly said, "Umm, excuse me, but I don't really know why I'm here. I was on a ship, you see, and I was wondering if you knew-"

She was cut off by a strange sigh. It was completely exasperated, but it held a soft, barely detectable note of pity and understanding. "I have found," the strange man continued, "That these things are simpler the sooner you know the truth." With that, he produced a mirror and said, in a voice very much like the sigh, "I'm sorry this happened to you, but you must understand that we're trying the best we can here, and your fate could be much worse under the Lich King." With that, he thrust the mirror at her face.

She stood still, stock still, upon seeing her face. For what seemed a long while, she could not move. Then, in a slow, voice brimming with fear she said, very simply, "_Please_ tell me I'm not with the Scourge. I wouldn't look like this if I were dead, and they were the ones who attacked our ship. This can't be."

The strange man chuckled, and it sounded like he hadn't done so for a long time. "By a hair's breadth, you are not. We are the Forsaken. We broke from the Scourge and continue to fight; only now we have turned on the Lich King, and we will see him defeated."

Diselda's head was a maelstrom of feelings. She had not been taken by the Scourge… and yet, here she was a zombie…how…

She managed to sputter, "But...but I never joined you. I belong to Hathor. I-"

He cut her off. "You misunderstand. You're a new recruit. You never got a say."

She began to slowly backpedal as the weight of it all began to sink in. "No...that's not true…it can't be…"

He rushed forward, snatched her arm, and set his rotting face close to hers, "Would you rather be serving the Lich King!? Killing other humans with no control?! That's what we saved you from, little miss, and you should be grateful! You were in a tight spot there, and you're lucky our crew got there in time. You were the only one on that ship we could save. The rest were already Scourge, and we had to kill them."

She broke away sharply, and spat back, "Then I wish you would have killed me! As she ran, or rather limped, off as far as she could into the woods, she heard his hoarse shout, "Go ahead! Go kill yourself! See what your precious Hathor would think of that!"

Then, she was gone. She didn't know how long she ran, only that she did not tire as she would have before, but she stopped when she tripped over a root. She simply lay there, face down in the dirt, hoping some one or some thing would come by and end her so she would not have to face the terrible new reality before her.

After a while, she thought that she should turn on her back, so she could get some air. Only then did an even more sickening feeling fill her; she could not breathe. And through she had been crying, the ground beneath her head was dry. Once she realized it, she simply lost consciousness from the shock.

When she awoke, she was still in the same position, and nothing had changed. She slowly worked herself up into a sitting position, and tried to reconstruct what had happened. Think, Drizelda! Get ahold of yourself!

Ok, at first, everything had been perfect, and she was on her way home to see Richard after her pilgrimage, which had gone great.

Next, their ship had been caught in a storm made by the Scourge.

Next, she had been knocked out by a huge wave hitting the ship and sending her flying across the room.

Next, she had left the room, with her mace, had seen no one alive, and had been killed just before somebody attacked the beached ship.

Now, the hard part.

Next she had woken up in a crypt, and remembered all that while trying to find the way out.

Next, she had found the way out, and a zombie at the entrance had informed her that the party attacking the ship were actually a group of rouge Scourge, called the Forsaken, and they had brought her back to life as a zombie to fight with them.

Next, she had broken down and ran.

She sat for a long while, trying to take all of this in. In essence, her perfect life had been ripped from her in an instant, and through no fault of her own, she was now a zombie, though mercifully she still had her own free will and wasn't a slave to the dreaded Lich King. She supposed the strange man had a point there.

Then, it really sank in. She was a now a zombie. She still had her mind, but she was trapped between life and death. One of the perverse undead, something Hathor most despised. And Richard, he was lost to her now as well. She could not believe this. Everything, _everything_ was now lost to her. Her god, her beloved, everything.

Just as she was about to give up and fall to the ground once more, another part of her took action. Rather than falling, she got to her feet as quickly as she could on unsteady legs, and her hand found her mace at her side. She did not stop to think why it was still there. One thought, and one thought only, had filled her mind; 'My only way out of this is if I die. And I'll be damned if I'm going to kill myself. I will take at least one of these fiends with me. I don't care if they aren't the Lich King's minions or even if they saved me. If I take even one of them down with me, it will be worth it.'


	4. Awakening

With the resolve of those who know they have nothing to lose, she walked back the way she had come, while going over everything she had ever learned about the mace in her mind's eye.

They had all been required to take a lesson in weapon use, just so they wouldn't be helpless in a pinch. She remembered that the clerics used maces because they made it easy to incapacitate an opponent without killing them, unless in extreme cases that was needed. She considered this an extreme case. Although she had no particular love of weapons, she had gone to the lessons more frequently than the others, simply because it never hurt to be prepared. 'Looks like that paid off,' she thought to herself grimly. Her only hope was that ridding the world of one more zombie, plus what she had done before this, would redeem her in Hathor's eyes.

It wasn't long before she came across a lone zombie, wandering in the woods. Unlike the one by the crypt, this one had no intelligence in its eyes, only a blank, glazed stare. Perfect. She crept up behind it. "For the most effective use of power, use both hands for a downward swing." her instructor's voice rang in her head. Her mace struck home. The zombie, still standing, turned towards her with hunger now filling the glazed eyes. A rotted arm stretched towards her. "When parrying, use a short swipe with the mace held vertically in one hand. Two hands just slows you down. The arm was knocked aside. "Sometimes, a low attack can be effective. Simply swing up from a downwards position, since nobody expects that sort of an attack from a mace. Again, with this move, two hands get in the way. Just get in, and get out." Her mace smashed the zombie's stomach, to little effect.

"To disarm an attacker, try grabbing their forearm in your free hand and smashing their elbow with the mace. This takes considerable speed and practice and involves considerable risk, but it can be the most effective way of stopping an assailant." One of the zombie's arms fell limp at the elbow. She went over every move she had been taught, and quickly realized something. These moves were designed for an opponent that felt pain and could give up when the odds were against them. Her opponent could do neither.

It was only a matter of time before she made the slip. While trying to disable the zombie's remaining arm, she missed her target. "This move involves considerable risk" flashed through her mind, and by then it was too late. A desiccated hand closed around her throat, and though she didn't need to breathe, she saw hungry jaws closing in on her, and knew that soon she would be gone. She was too close to use the mace effectively; she couldn't get the room to swing. She closed her eyes, and hung her head as her foe closed in, knowing that she had failed this last, simple task. Even though she knew he would most likely not listen in her present state, she whispered, "Hathor…"

A thought flashed through her head, 'Didn't think I'd be speaking my last words when I fell asleep on the ship.' And she tried the best she could to prepare herself for what was to come. Then, she heard a whisper in her ear, "Who said anything about last words?" There was blinding flash that she could see through her closed eyes, and as soon as it died out she opened them to a sight that she could not believe. The zombie was sprawled out in front of her, quite dead. But, that was not it. A brilliant fire played over her hands, before slowly dying out. She could not believe her eyes. She had seen this skill used before, by a priest much farther along Hathor's path than she. She had never dreamed of being gifted with its use. She dropped to her knees in indescribable happiness. In the midst of all this confusion and sorrow, when she thought everything was gone forever, Hathor had not given up on her. Even in her wretched state, Hathor was still watching.

As she looked down towards the ground while trying to comprehend how Hathor had still seen fit to save her, she noticed a glint. When she looked down, she saw Richard's necklace, dangling from her throat, as if it had always been there. She didn't know how, but she knew he was still out there, waiting for her. And she didn't know why, but Hathor had put her here, in this wretched form, to do _something_. Matilla's words rang through her head; "I know the going's rough right now, but Hathor is always with us. If he wants this to work, then he'll make sure it does. If he couldn't care less about this mission or Avenglade, then it just means we're here for a different reason than we thought. So, just keep at it, and we'll see what happens." Mumbling one last thanks to Hathor, she stood up, and walked back towards the crypt.

She cut off the strange zombie before he could speak, "I've pulled myself together. Looks like you have a point there, I should be grateful to be here and not somewhere worse. I apologize for my outburst."

To her amazement, he bowed. "What a lady we have here," he replied, his voice no longer exasperated, but now interested. "There is no need to apologize; I can hardly imagine a worse shock."

To his amazement, her next question was, "So, what does a new Forsaken recruit do around here?" He pointed down the hill, and said, "They will have a job for you at the old cathedral."

As she nodded and started down the hill, he said, on a hunch he couldn't quite identify, "Hathor be with you, young one."

She turned, nodded, and replied in kind, "Hathor be with you."


	5. The Scarlet Crusade Part 1

She spent the next year and a half working tirelessly for the Forsaken. A single determination filled her mind; Hathor had sent her here, for whatever reason, even though she could not hope to comprehend what it was. 'Oddly enough', she remarked to herself one night before she went to sleep, 'This is just like the mission.' The Forsaken were more like a band of refugees than a band of horrors. They had a command structure, and goal, and they were trying to hang on to their lost humanity, and those were things she could understand. She made contacts of a sort among the ragged group, just as she had at the mission, but never real friends. That was reserved for before this catastrophe. She couldn't help but be noticed; she did all that she was asked for the day and then came marching back, with no sign of weariness, practically begging for more.

And so it went for a year and a half. Every day, she arose early and set out to work for them. Every day, she walked by the cathedral and heard the headmaster reminding the new 'recruits' that their old life was behind them, and now they simply needed to look forwards to the glory of the Forsaken. When she heard those words, neither her face nor her pace changed in the slightest. But, beneath that, she simply smiled in her head. And thought about how they all failed to notice the necklace she wore, or how they never questioned the powers she still commanded. Then, she would simply go back to work, doing whatever her new leaders commanded of her, without question. She grew stronger every day, both with her mace and with her powers. And every night, as she laid down in her horrific mockery of a bed, only two things flashed through her mind. The fact that Hathor was still with her, and the fact that she knew, beyond the suspicion of false hope, that Richard was still alive. She had no idea what he was doing or if he still thought of her, but the important thing was that Hathor made sure she knew he was still alive. That was all that mattered. She lived between those moments.

"Clear out the skeletons, they are minions of the Scourge." was her first command. She bowed and knelt, touching her head to the floor. "Yes, of course. For the Forsaken."

Her new powers saw her through, and she soon realized that a sharp, two handed blow to the head was more effective against zombies than any of her training. Once it was done, she quickly returned.

"The skeletons are no more."  
The overseer looked at her with surprise, and replied, "Secure the gold mine out west. It is infested with spiders, and we need that gold."  
"Yes, of course. For the Forsaken."

These proved to be a bit tougher, but still, her powers worked wonders.

"Scavenge the town for more goods."  
"Yes, of course, for the Forsaken."

A few more of the same sorts of missions, then came the one she had been dreading.

"Drive out the humans who are preparing a strike."  
"Yes, of course, for the Forsaken."

Her face gave away nothing, but as soon as she walked out of the old cathedral, she stole away to consider her options.

'There's no way I can kill them.', was her first thought. 'Maybe I can reason with them?'

She thought back to the tales she had heard of the Scarlet Crusade, and shook her head. 'Not a chance.' Shrugging, she stalked off towards their camp, too see what her options were. Somehow, she would manage to pull this off so that nobody would die.

**A/N Ok, that's the end of the first half. The rest of this story is pretty much done, but since the Scarlet Crusade figures rather prominently in this area, I figured I'd better put them in. However, I'm having trouble thinking up just how she'll pull this off. Ideas, anyone? Questions? Comments? Flames? **

**(jk about the flames)**


	6. The Scarlet Crusade Part 2

Since their encampment wasn't too far away from Deathknell, Drizelda quickly found it, and scouted the place out. Perhaps twelve Crusaders, new recruits by the look of them. Probably sent here to hone their skills against the Forsaken recruits. Their tents were sitting just ahead of a small ravine that led further away from Deathknell, probably to another encampment or even a larger base of operations. Drizelda shook her head at how quickly she had picked up this knowledge, the last few months had really changed her. And, as always, she shoved those thoughts aside quickly before they could take hold on her mind. Now was not the time to be pining away over her losses.

As she snapped out of her thoughts, she noticed a horse tethered to the back of one of the tents, no doubt for a messenger. And… not much else. Scowling, she didn't see anything that might help her be rid of them without bloodshed. She decided to simply observe them for the time being, until she could come up with a plan.

For the next two weeks, she staked out their camp from small groves of trees, always staying too far away to be noticed, but always close enough to hear snatches of conversations, and pick up a bit about her opponents. She watched them go on short raids towards Deathknell, until the Deathguards noticed them, at which point they would run back towards their camp until the Guards lost interest. She was always questioned about why she had not accomplished her mission yet after these raids, and she was always careful to inform them of her exact plans and why she was staking them out, conveniently leaving out the part where she wasn't going to kill them. She felt a little bit guilty for allowing them to raid without going to help the rest of the Forsaken, but she figured that, whenever they made a kill, they were doing that particular Forsaken a favor.

After the better part of her two week mission, she began to notice something. She had picked up in hits of conversation, including why various members of the band were there. Some of them, in fact most of them, had lost family to the Scourge, had joined the Crusade because of it, and had ended up assigned here for training. A few others were simply there for the action or the money, and one boy, which interested her in particular, had joined the Crusade to fight the evil Scourge. She didn't learn his name, but this particular one had lost no family, and he had no particular desire to fight. But he knew the Scourge were evil, and he had chosen to do something about it. The Argent Dawn had turned him away for lack of experience, so he chose the next best thing; the Scarlet Crusade.

She also noticed a problem. They were bonding through the experience. They had all either lost or given up families, been shuffled around what she could only imagine was the standard military procedure the Scarlet Crusade used, and had finally found others who were going through the same thing, and who weren't going to be shipped out elsewhere anytime soon. That was good for them, but it nixed any plans she had of turning them against one another somehow, or breeding dissent. She would have to find another way. After witnessing how they fought, she knew she could best at least one, probably two of them, but she went on a few more training excursions, just to be sure of her skills. A plan had begun to formulate in her mind.

Taking a deep breath, if it could be called that, Drizelda went over the plan in her head once more, then lurched ahead. She approached the camp, shuffling her steps to appear as one of the mindless Scourge that roamed the area. She had chosen her plan of attack well; the first one to see her was one of the cocky ones, who was there for the action. He snorted to the others.

"Bah. I'll take this one. I wish something tough would come by, I get tired of chopping up these vermin."

The others nodded and paid him no further mind.

Immediately, but slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, Drizelda turned and picked up her pace towards one of the small groves. The Crusader didn't even bother to speed up. He was bored chasing these mindless zombies, and he wasn't looking forwards to the lack of sport he would get from this one. As Drizelda led him ever farther away from the camp, his sixth sense warned him of danger. He knew he could easily become surrounded, with all of his backup out of earshot, but he almost welcomed it. He wanted a challenge, and a few at once, without fear of the DeathGuards, would be just the thing to brighten up the day. It was his undoing.

Once they were out of earshot, Drizelda rounded on him, still keeping up her façade of a Scourge. Rolling his eyes at how fruitless it seemed, the Cursader lunged for her head to get it over with quickly. To his utter shock, his sword met empty air, a cold, bony hand grasped his wrist, and his elbow was smashed by a mace he had not seen. His combat reflexes kicked in, and he jumped to the side, but Drizelda still held his arm and, off-balance, he crashed to the ground. Before he could recover, Drizelda's mace connected solidly with the back of his head.

She quickly tied him up, her mind racing. 'He's still alive, and I had him tricked the whole time. He was one of the best in that group, and I managed to get him. Now, I just need to do it again…"

She managed the same trick twice more before they became suspicious; once she saw the look in their eyes after their third man, she knew it wouldn't work again. At least, not without a little extra incentive. She grabbed some meat from her pouch, and used it to bait a couple of Darkhounds towards the camp, again, behind the cover of some trees. She saw the unsure looks on the Crusader's faces, but they soon decided that, no matter what was going on, they couldn't let monsters surround the camp. Not so easily fooled, they sent in three, a woman and two men. Distracted by the Darkhounds, Drizelda crept up on them, unnoticed in the combat, and let her mace work its magic.

'Only six left now.' was her only thought as she stalked off for he next part of her plan. A flash of light in the bushes, and three men came running, over the objections of the others that they stay together. Drizelda winced. She didn't know if she could handle three. She backed off and slipped behind a bush to gain some distance, then used her powers on one to hit his leg and trip him up, and managed to do the same on another before the final one found her hiding spot. Her extra training paid off, as she rolled from her crouch to avoid his blow, and smashed her mace into the back of his knee, then, as he fell, to the back of his head. The other two were upon her, and she took a bad hit to the arm, but the advantage of being Forsaken was that she did not feel pain. And, fortunately for her, the Crusaders did not have that advantage. She fell back upon her basic training, smashing one in the stomach, parrying a blow from the other, and then, in a new trick, grabbed his sword with her unfeeling hand, and smashed him across the face. The remaining one was still trying to recover from the stomach hit, and he met the same fate. As she dragged these latest, bound and gagged, back to a secluded copse of trees, she went over the last part of her plan once more in her head.

The only ones left at the camp were two women, and the boy who had interested her at first, all of whom were extremely nervous now that their numbers had been reduced to three. Since they had been the ones yelling to stick together, she knew that she would need to strike a little closer to separate them. As she snuck around the back, she noticed that one of the girls was starting to break down.

She couldn't be much older than sixteen, and she was definitely getting scared.

'I don't wanna die here', and 'what happened to the others? Just like my family, there's… nothing….. I… do…' were some of the snippets Drizelda caught. She didn't catch the specifics, but as she began to sob, the boy was there, trying to boost her spirits. After 'if you break down now, you really _will_ have done nothing. So, come on, you're going to make it. We can do this…'

Drizelda stopped listening and concentrated on evading the gaze of the remaining woman, a bit older, who was keeping a careful watch. The horse whinnied from the back as Drizelda approached it, hoping the noise would make them come and investigate. Just as she had hoped, the woman ran towards the back, while she boy shot "Watch our backs!" over his shoulder as he followed. Drizelda was waiting, crouched against the tent's wall, and she tripped the woman as she ran by, knocking her out before she had even finished skidding across the ground. The boy had his sword out and ready to strike by the time she turned around, but she snapped off a spell that sent him sprawling and the sword flying from his hands. She was on him like a cat, and it wasn't long before he was out. Drizelda looked for the girl, but she was gone. She quickly bound the remaining two, then ran off into the woods after her.

'She going to get herself killed, running blindly like that.' rang through her head.

After a few minutes of searching, she realized that the girl was gone, and also heard sounds of a struggle in the direction she had stashed the rest of the prisoners. She quickly changed plans and ran off.

Behind a tree, the girl sighed in relief.

As she had feared, the prisoners had been attacked by a zombie. A Scourge was going after one who was still out cold, but, as she ran for it, one of the others jumped up and, though his arms and legs were still bound, bent his knees and sprang on the zombie, knocking them both to the ground. The zombie grabbed for this new threat, but Drizelda was there, and she ended it with her mace. She looked at the valiant Crusader, and said, "That's awfully courageous of you." Still gagged, all he could do was glare.

Knowing she couldn't keep defending two locations, she dragged them back, two at a time, to their camp. By the time she had gotten them all back in one place, they were all awake, but she had tightened their bonds, and tied them to their own tent posts, so there was no thought of escape. Most of them struggled with their bonds or sat grim faced, but the boy kept making muffled sounds behind his gag. Shrugging, Drizelda went and undid it. "Lialah! What have you done with Lialah!" he gasped as soon as his gag was off.

Drizelda cocked her head. "You mean, the one who was crying? She ran off."

The boy shook his head. "She's gonna get killed!"

"Why, can't she fight?"

He jerked his head in the direction of a dropped sword. "She was never any good at unarmed. She's defenseless!" A few of the others, who had paused in their struggling to listen, nodded in assent.

The boy continued on, speaking as quickly as he could, fearing he would be gagged again, spurted "Listen, you're a Forsaken, you stillhavesome humanityleft you'vegottofindher! She'll die!"

Drizelda looked amused, though inwardly it wrenched her heart. Everythign she had left behind came rushing back for an instant at the sight of this boy. he seemed very out of place.

Inwardly composing herself, all she said was, "And, do you suppose she will come to my call?"

The boy took a second to process this, and then hung his head. "Please, you have to go and let me look for her…she's helpless…"

A part of her heeded his words, and considered that if she let him go, it would help her case in getting them to leave. But, another part quickly overrode those foolish notions with a different plan. 'They will never listen to you, no matter what you do.' this other part reasoned. 'Let him go, but do it so you still have control of the situation.'

Outwardly, she glared down at him once she had reached a conclusion. "Fine. I gain nothing by her death." She cut him loose, and shoved him towards the horse, to the incredulous and hopeful looks of the rest of the group. "If you aren't back in a quarter of an hour, I start killing your friends here." Once he was mounted, he looked back at her. "What are you going to do with us?" In response, Drizelda slapped his horse and set it running. Even though she was no good with horses, she got it right and the horse was gone in an instant.

She turned back and glared at the rest of them, trying to think of some other way to gain control of the situation, and keep their hopes low. She didn't need any escapees. "Anybody else have any _requests_?" She snarled. "Because, as you can see, I need you all alive, but I'll put you out again." She thumped her mace against her palm for emphasis. After that, all struggling stopped, and the grim looks returned.


	7. The Scarlet Crusade Part 3

After a quarter of an hour of pacing the camp and looking menacing, Drizelda was beginning to wonder if she had done the right thing. If she had misjudged him, and he had simply ran off back to the next post for reinforcements, then this was the end of the line. But, he soon put those thoughts to rest as he came riding up to the camp, an unreadable expression on his face.

"No luck?", she called sarcastically. In answer, he simply dismounted, his head hung low, and offered his hands to be bound. He offered no resistance, to the shocked looks and growls of the rest of the group. However, when she led him over to the rest, they quickly stopped their growling. Unbeknownst to her, the boy had simply winked.

After he was securely tightened, she asked him, "Does this horse know the way back?"

"Back to where?" he asked innocently. She made to strike him with the mace, and he yelped out, "Yes! Yes, he does, and you better not try anything, because he knows the way to a post where your little baiting tricks won't work! Go ahead and try to follow him!"

This drew approving nods from the rest of the prisoners, but Drizelda simply laughed. "I am quite sure we know where all your ill concealed hideouts are by now."

The boy looked crestfallen. "Then, why…" She cut him off with a gag.

* * *

For the next hour, they watched her dismantle some tents and crates, and she put a back on their little supply wagon. It was crudely done, but it was the best she could do. The boy finally spit out the gag she had neglected to tie around his head. "What are you going to do with that?"

She turned around and glared at him. "I thought I gagged you."

"Because, if you're taking us away for experiments, then please, I beg of you, you still have some human remaining in you-"

"Silence!" She cut him off, and looked around at the rest of the captives. The thought of 'experiments' had set them to struggling again. "I'm not taking you for experiments. In fact, I'm not taking you anywhere."

At this, she got some strange looks and decided that, since she had them where she wanted them anyway, she could afford to tell them, and it wouldn't matter if they believed her or not at this point.

"The Forsaken hate the Scourge as much as you do, and I hate being this way even more, if you can imagine that. I was ordered to get rid of you before you caused too much trouble. But, I'm not going to let the Forsaken win out over my human side. So, I'm getting rid of you in a different way." She gestured to the cart. "I hope you're ready for a long ride. And, you had best tell your superiors whatever you need to so that they don't come back here, because many of the Forsaken are simply soldiers, and chances are the next person they send won't be as controlled. So, consider yourselves lucky to be alive, and get assigned to fighting the real enemy, the Scourge. The Forsaken are doing the same thing."

The boy had looked puzzled through out the entire explanation. "So, if you hate this form so much, why not kill yourself, and be done with it?" She looked at him then at the rest. "Good question. Because of this." At that, her arm glowed with fire, and everyone's eyes, widened. "I used to be a cleric of Hathor. When I first woke up like this, I was ready to do just what you said. But, I still have my powers. So, for some reason, Hathor needs me here to do something. I don't know what that is, but I'm going to do it. And I'm not going to kill anybody along the way. So…" Here she paused to grab one of her prisoners and haul them over to the wagon. "This wagon is going to be pretty cozy, but I think you'll all fit." Most of the prisoners were dumbfounded partly by her explanation, but mostly by her show of power, and so they offered no resistance.

'Could it be that one of the hated Forsaken had kept their cleric powers for some greater design?' That thought kept them from struggling as she heaved them into the wagon.

Suddenly, the boy got an odd look on his face, and boldly stated, "I don't believe you."

She turned to him. "Oh? And why not?"

"That aura could have been faked."

Drizelda rolled her eyes. "I could leave you here, if you like."

"Just heal the bruise on my head, and I'll be satisfied."

She chuckled softly as she walked over to him. "Doesn't look like you're in much of a position to be satisfied." she mumbled to him, but did as she was asked, if only to prove her point. As she was focused on the healing, something struck her from behind, and she fell into blackness.

* * *

She awoke to find herself bound, and the girl, Lialah, crouching next to her, a smile a mile wide on her face. "So, he found you, then left you there, to come back at the right time. Good trick."

Lialah jumped at her awakening, but then glared back.

Drizelda continued., "And that 'heal my bruise as proof.' That was a nice distraction."

Lialah snickered. "You baited us. How do you like a taste of your own medicine?"

"Under the circumstances, it seems a little ungrateful."

Lilah's smile fell, and she jerked her head over to the others, free now, who were talking among themselves. "We're not quite sure what to do with you."

Drizelda sighed. "What more do you want me to do?", she said, loud enough for the others to hear. Once their conversation stopped, she continued, "I still have my powers, you fools!" Drizelda knew she was becoming agitated, and might say something stupid, but she couldn't stop herself. "What more do you want? How else can I prove it?! I'M NOT LIKE THEM!!! Don't you SEE?!", she practically shrieked.

At that, she broke down, and the feelings she had kept trapped inside for so long came bursting out. It didn't take her too long to get herself back under control, but in that brief moment, she had tried to cry, just like she had at first, and no tears had come. She took a moment to collect herself, then said, simply, "Look at my necklace."

Taken aback at what they had just seen, most of the group looked bewildered. Lialah gingerly lifted the necklace from under her shirt, and they all saw Hathor's sign. Drizelda steadied herself before saying, "My betrothed gave that to me. If I have my way, I'll see him one last time, before this is all over. I just want to hear his voice. I don't want to be here, but while I am, I'm going to try. So, if you want to kill me, then do it now."

The tough one, the one she had taken down first, spoke up. He had gained no small measure of respect for her for taking him down, even though she had tricked him. And with that respect came a measure of fear. "We'll consider it." he sneered. "But, until then, let's not hear from you for a while." he said, and then smashed her over the head.

* * *

When she awoke some time later, she was still bound, but the Crusaders, and most of their camp, were gone. She sighed in relief. It hadn't worked out quite the way she had planned, but she had done it. She used her powers to sever the bonds, then sighed again and made for Deathknell.

Lialah and the boy had stayed behind, hidden, to watch her reaction. Once they saw it, they knew they had done to right thing, and they walked off after the caravan, both of them quite a bit stronger. The entire band, in fact, had been drawn closer together by Drizelda's escapade, and were much more ready for their first confrontation with the Scourge.


	8. Plauge Work

After her successful mission, her superiors ordered her to Brill. The Scarlet Crusade was more of a problem in that area, and since she had been able to dispatch the camp so thoroughly, they decided she would be an asset. Her face had given away none of the irony when she was informed. They also decided that, given her service record, and the fact that she had, to all appearances at least, thrown away her old life, that she was ready for the Undercity. She accepted these commands without emotion, and shouldered her pack for Brill.

When she approached the town, at first it seemed almost familiar. There was an inn, a blacksmith, a stables…it seemed just like a dozen small towns she had been through in her past life. That feeling quickly drained away, however, when she saw the stable full of dead horses, and her fellow Forsaken crowing around the blacksmith. She shook her head at herself for being so foolish, and headed for the inn.

The Gallow's End, as it was called, turned out to be even worse. The Forsaken milled around the common room in a grotesque parody of what they had once done. A fire sat blazing in the hearth, though the Forsaken could feel no heat or cold. Mugs of ale were passed around, though none of the patrons could taste it, and Drizelda doubted very much if alcohol could effect them. As she mechanically checked in for a room, she noted that they even kept a register and guestbook, and could hardly keep herself from laughing. 'Such a horrible joke,' she thought to herself dryly. 'That's all this town is; a bad reflection. So bad it's a joke." She quickly pushed those thoughts from her mind, as she had done countless times before, dropped her bag in her room, and went downstairs to scout out something to do. Something that might, mercifully, get her out of here.

As she quickly passed through the common room, she caught the eye of one of the patrons. He grabbed her elbow as she passed. "New recruit from DeathKnell?" he inquired simply.

She nodded.

"Got a job for ya. There's a farm out from here a ways, the farmers are stubborn and Crusade keeps comin around to check on em. Nobody wants ta go deal with em, so just steal some of their crops. Maybe if we can drive off the farmers, then the Crusade will leave too."

He gave her some simple directions, and she nodded, then turned to leave.

"Oh, and one more thing." he called after her, " The Apocathary wants to have whatever you get from the farm."

The task was simple enough, and with the help of her Fade spell, she was quickly done without being spotted. She didn't know why the Apocathary would want something as simple as crops, but she soon found out why. When she delivered it, she overheard some talk between him and his assistant of progress on an engineered plague, and how it was time for a new test.

* * *

"Bring this pumpkin to the human we have captured under the inn, and report the results to me." Drizelda obediently took the pumpkin carefully in both hands and bowed low. "For the Forsaken." Was all she said. She stepped outside with a measured pace, never once letting slip what was going on inside her head. She had no idea that the inn even _had_ a basement, much less that there was a captive human there. What she did know was that this pumpkin was definitely going to do something to the unfortunate prisoner, and it likely wouldn't be good. Chances were that he simply wanted to see how effective it was at killing. She was tempted to simply turn around, walk out of town, and dump it behind a bush. But, then she couldn't return, and he would simply have someone else do it. And if she returned to him with a made up reaction, that would throw off his experiments, which would slow down the development of the plague. For all she knew, he would order _more_ research subjects to be brought if she failed to do this. But, she couldn't just _kill_ whoever was down there. She paced behind the stables, trying to sort it all out, and cursing the day she ever was put into this. Eventually, she decided to go through with it. Even though she knew the prisoner might die, if he satisfied the alchemist, then perhaps he would go back to his experiments and forget about ordering more captives. As she mechanically stepped out from behind the stables, she felt as helpless as when she had first arrived. The best she could _hope_ to do was try and make that madman _forget_ to order more killings. At that thought, she stopped reflecting on the matter and marched grimly towards the Gallow's End tavern.

When she reached the basement, she passed the guards on the top of the stairs and saw a Scarlet Crusader and a dwarf trying to look inconspicuous in a corner. She winced when she saw there were two; she knew that dwarf would be next if the apocathary ever needed a new subject. She marched over to them, and the dwarf shuffled back a bit as the human began to speak.

Even though he knew it was futile, he screamed at her, "Back, ye foul demon! I'll never squeal to the likes of ye! Kill me first, and be done with it! Just don't dare try and turn me to your ranks; I'll kill you!! Kill you all!!"

She waited until he was out of breath, then calmly replied, with a quick glance to make sure the guards were out of earshot. "You think _I_ want to be here? In this mess? I used to be a priest, and now I must live as this abomination. So, I don't want to hear about your mess. Be glad you're still alive."

Completely unprepared for that, the nameless prisoner bit back his next defiant words, instead sputtering, "What do you want?"

Dirzelda gave a short, quiet laugh. "What do I _want_? To be done with this miserable curse. What am I here for?" Here she stopped and sighed. "I'll be honest with you." She produced the pumpkin and laid it on a nearby barrel. "One of the alchemists here is working on engineering a plague. He has poisoned this pumpkin, which I just stole from the farm, and wants me to give it to you to see if it works."

He face was a mask of anger and confusion. "I had hoped to at least be killed by a blade. At least that holds more honor than poison." He paused, then spat, "Why tell me this? Why not just-" she hushed him quickly, before his voice could rise.

"Don't tell the whole world. I was supposed to just give it to you as food and then watch."

"So, why help me, ye undead wench?", he muttered, still untrusting.

She smirked a bit, and shook her head. "I just thought you might like to know that this plague is designed to work on the Scourge." At his wide eyed look, she continued, "I just thought you might like to know you're dying for a worthy cause. The Forsaken and the Scarlet Crusade are more alike than you might think."

He was still dumbstruck. "But…but then…the plague would work on…"

She nodded. "There's no way to make a disease that will work on the Scourge but not the Forsaken. As soon as we use it on the Lich King, we may become infected as well. We are not particularly fond of this existence, and we live out our undeath only to strike back at the Lich King."

The nameless prisoner was stunned. "Will…will it work on humans?"

"That I don't know. This will, but let us pray that the final result does not."

He eyed her with suspicion. "You don't sound like one o' them."

She stared right back into his eyes. "I don't like this any more than you or your Scarlet Crusade friends. All I know is that I still have my powers, and that means Hathor hasn't given up on me. There's a reason I'm here, and until I find that reason, I'll live this hellish life." She looked towards the stairs once more. "Just don't tell the others I said that, they wouldn't take too kindly to it."

He nodded, a sudden respect in his eyes, as they wandered over to the pumpkin. "Well, I guess I'd better get this over with."

She nodded sadly. "Just remember. If this works, you will have contributed to the downfall of the Scourge." She looked at him once more. "You die with honor."

He took a deep breath, steeled himself, broke open the pumpkin, and began to eat. "Some last meal." All three of them, even the dwarf in the corner, laughed at that.

After he had finished the entire thing, he replied, "Well, I suppose your alchemist boiled when he should have stirred, because-" Suddenly he trailed off. His skin began to twitch, and crack, and peel. Even though he knew it was coming, a horrified look still crossed his face. Within moments, he completely lost control, and knocked over his chair and the barrel in uncontrollable spasms. "My MIND! My BODY! I'm ROTTING!!! AUGHAUGH!!!" He screamed and ran madly into the wall, before picking himself up and doing it again. The guards came down, but she waved them away. She desperately wanted to cast a spell and end this, but she had suddenly seen where the mad apocathary was going with this. The potion first turned the victim into a Scourge. Then, hopefully, it would end him.

A few minutes later, it did, the nameless man was sprawled out on the floor, a zombie killed by disease. The potion had worked. Drizelda couldn't decide whether to breathe a sigh of relief or vomit at the sight as the guards left. Since she could no longer do the latter, she did the former. As she turned to go, she looked over at the forgotten dwarf. "Although this worked, if I know the apocathary, he will want to do additional experiments to perfect his mixture. Prepare yourself. As much as I hate to admit it, chances are I'll be back for you."

"Noh!" The dwarf yelled. "Eitha ye help me get out a hea, o' I'll die tryin' ta escape! I'll neva go through what I jus' saw!"

Dirzelda sighed, and said the only thing she could, "If the Scourge ever march on IronForge, what price would you pay to be able to instantly kill them all? He jerked her head over to the body. An entire army. Just like that. Because that's what we aim to do. Make no mistake; should our alchemists ever perfect this, Lady Sylvanas will not hesitate to use it, even if the Alliance were being attacked. She will not rest until the Scourge are wiped from the land. You will bring us one step closer to perfecting this." here she shrugged. "You may very well do more for your people this way than you ever could otherwise. Console yourself with that." She pointed over to the corpse. "He did, and died with at least some honor."

The dwarf was dumbfounded. "Well, if this is so important, why dun ye test it en yerselves?" he asked stubbornly.

Drizelda shivered as she recalled hearing a brief description of the Undercity alchemy labs, though she had never been there herself. "Oh, believe me." She said as she turned away. "We do."


	9. The UnderCity

After several more 'successes', Drizelda was given a simply delivery errand to the Undercity. Not wanting to admit she had never been there by asking for directions, she simply bowed and wandered off. She knew where to find it, of course; she could hardly miss the great towering monolith that had once been a great castle. However, she had always tried to keep her distance. She sighed, there was no helping it.

As she walked up to the ruined castle, she got a sense, even in its ruin, of how great its builders were. She saw past the courtyard so overgrown with weeds it almost looked as if a gardener had planted them, past the crumbling, cracked walls, and past the ruined, broken fountain in the center. The sky was overcast above, and a light, misty rain had begun to fall in the silence that filled the courtyard. Looking around her at the spectacle of desolation, she saw a glimpse of what this place truly must have been like. A glimpse of a past that, just like hers, could never be recovered. She was shocked out of her reverie by a lone Orc warrior on a Kodo, stomping out of one of the doors and across the moat.

Reminding herself that she had business to attend to, she stalked forwards purposefully, but the feeling returned when she walked through the deserted halls, past a great, ruined bell. The weeds were slightly less think here, but the walls had suffered greater damage, and the scratch marks covering the walls could only have been made by the blades of brave Alliance defenders as they retreated down the halls, from battles fought long ago. Upon entering the throne room, she saw that one aspect of the castle retained its glory, however faded; a mosaic displaying the standard of the Alliance, catching the glow from the crumbling skylight, far above. Gazing upon the mosaic, she could almost feel as if the great castle still kept some vestige of its glory.

That feeling left her, however, when she rounded a corner and saw the famed Undercity Guard, whom she had only heard about in rumors and who she had desperately hoped to avoid. Before her eyes could take in the full extent of the insult to everything natural and holy that these things represented, she quickly stepped by their unseeing eyes, and onto a platform with a large green circle in taking up the center. She was shocked when it started moving, but not so much as she had been by the Guard.

When the platform finally stopped moving, she quickly stepped out, and found herself in a short tunnel, carved of stone quite different than the castle above, and lit only by a single lantern on the wall, with ironwork carvings to let the visitor know that they were indeed in a place far different. As she turned a corner and stepped past yet another pair of horrid guards, she found herself standing on the top level of a wide, deep circular cavern that could only be called a rat's nest. Forsaken milled about everywhere like ants, while, along the outer edge, a moat of green slime was fed continually by horridly carved gargoyles. Bats constantly flew in and out of a great hole in the cavern ceiling, and the oddly carved lanterns were everywhere, accentuating the glow given off by the slime.

It was a hundred times worse than Brill, far more of a mockery. She had seen a real bustling marketplace once, on a visit to Stormwind. Now, however, what she saw was a twisted version, a macabre rendering of what should have been. As she walked looking for her contact, she even saw that the Forsaken had the audacity…no… that wasn't the right word, but perhaps disrespect…she couldn't sort out which word was best, but they had put a bank in the middle of the hole. A bank, as though it was perfectly normal, as though it was civilized, as though there was nothing wrong with the picture of a rotten zombie stepping up to a bank teller and asking politely for a deposit, while green slime whose origin was better left unknown flowed all around them, and screams could be heard even through all the commotion and three stone walls from the labs.

This time she could not stop herself from cackling with insane laughter at the hypocrisy of telling the new recruits to abandon their old life. 'What a joke.' she thought to herself. 'These poor wretches don't want to forget, they desperately, _desperately_ want to cling to any fragment of their old life they can make up.' The scene was made all the more twisted when nobody stopped at looked at her little moment of realization. Her insane cackle, that most likely would have brought a concerned member of the watch in any other city, was so commonplace that nobody noticed it now, and they all simply went on about their business. She smirked wryly and thought, 'Maybe next they can open a bakery.'

But, she had not regained control of herself yet. Bitterness and anger rising within her at this, yet another insult to humanity, she whipped her head around, looking for some way this could be worse. Some other way these poor wretches had dreamt up to make their condition seem normal. And, she found one. She unhesitatingly walked up to one of the guards, turning her neck up to look it square in the face. Her gaze passed by the intentionally exposed organs, the chains imbued into the flesh, the ribcages hanging as limply as a set of double doors of its hinges limply as and, is if to complete the insult, the face, molded to look eager, but succeeding in only accentuating the fact that this was simply a golem. Bitterness rising even higher, she asked, in a voice that betrayed one of it, "How might if find the Mage's Quarter?"

And, as she expected, a magically recorded voice gave her the answer, spoken exactly as a town guard might. Had she been mortal, bile would have risen in her throat, but as it was, she simply bowed to the unseeing golem, and followed his directions. She found her mark, and handed over the package mechanically, receiving his thanks just as mechanically, did something between a bow and a curtsey that would have looked ridiculous anywhere else, but somehow managed to fit here, among this menagerie of sickness. She thanked him for the honor of even being summoned to the Undercity, in the most sincere voice imaginable. He seemed to take note of it wit ha quick smile, then sent her away. She forced herself to make a quick stop for some supplies, and headed for the platform. She didn't even look at the two guards as she passed them.

Once outside, however, she quickly ran to find an alcove and hid. She had cracked back there, she knew. It was just for a second, but she had cracked. She could not afford to lose herself to the situation again. As she thought about it, all the bitterness, all the bile, all the righteous anger at this horrible place hit her at once. It took her quite a while to clam down. Once she got a hold of herself, she shook her head. She didn't know how much longer she could hold out like this. Resolutely steeling herself, she walked back to Brill to report that she was done.


	10. Breaking Point

Fortunately, she soon found an outlet for her frustrations. Looking for something else she could accomplish, she wandered into the city hall. Its assemblage of chairs, plus the 'mayor' of Brill seated on a raised dais at the end, was almost enough to make her relapse into her state at the Undercity, but she held her bitterness in check. The mayor looked up from his papers, and said, "Ah. Perfect. Are you busy?"

Drizelda bowed a bow she had finally perfected during her Undercity delivery.

At first, when she had been trying to fool her Forsaken overseerers, she had simply bowed, saying, "For the Forsaken." As she had gone on, she had incorporated a kneel, so that her head touched the floor. This seemed to please them, so she had taken it one step farter, kneeling, and then groveling, spouting something different each time about how honored she was to be a part of the resistance, or how she had no other purpose but to follow whatever particular command they had felt like giving her. This brought smiles to their faces, and whispered comments about how loyal she was, so she kept it up. Once she had been to Undercity, though, once she had felt that vile taste, that sick irony, that poisoned aura that defined the Forsaken, it had come to her. It had come to her in that split second that she had cut loose that insane cackle, it had come to her in the knowledge that, like it or not, if she was ever to make it out of here, she would have to become that sick, sick irony.

When the mayor asked his question, Drizelda smiled at him in utmost relief and admiration, as if she hadn't eaten for days, and he had casually come along and offered her some rations. Her knees bent in a curtsey and her back bowed so he couldn't see her face, but it didn't stop there. Once her curtsey was complete, she fell forward slightly, on her knees, and brought her hands together. She whipped her head up at him, with the most pathetic, pleading look on her face, her eyes staring wide and hopeful through a thin veil of tattered hair, her body shaking as though it wanted to go flat against the ground for merely being in his presence, but she would not allow it, she had to keep looking at him, keep imploring him, never breaking eye contact, for fear she would lose this chance.

A criminal begging for the judge to spare his life could not have pulled off such a performance.

As she locked her eyes with his, making it absolutely clear that no word would fall from his lips without being obeyed without the slightest hesitation, she pled, "_Please_, I ask only the _honor_ of serving the Forsaken with what little skill I have. _Any _task, please, I will take any opportunity to do your will. Do not allow me to live one more moment without giving everything I have to the Forsaken. I wish only to serve."

At that, she bowed her head completely, as if awaiting the most important event of her life in utter silence and awe.

A part of her railed against this terrible façade. It was an insult to her very being to do this. And, yet, another part simply wore a sardonic smile. A sad, biting, sardonic smile.

A memory flashed unbidden to Drizelda's mind as she bowed, a memory of a Stormwind mayor, and what a kind man he was. A quick smile flashed unseen across her face as she thought of how he would have responded, if she had acted this way. He would have knelt down beside her, only after yelling for the town watch to bring a healer, or her family, or _somebody_ and then would have demanded to know what the matter was. As always, she quickly pushed it from her mind.

The mayor in front of her now did none of those things. He simply said, "Good. I like to see some drive in our new recruits. Come here, and look at his map. I've got a job just for you."

One part of her mentally gnashing her teeth at this affront, Drizelda mechanically obeyed, her face jumping into a smile and her body practically flashing to his side.

"Look at his map. Here's Brill, and here's the castle. " he indicated a spot to the northeast, "Now have you ever been over this way?"

Drizelda shook her head as if she were the biggest disappointment ever.

"It's not far.", the major continued, "Have you ever run into any gnolls?"

Drizelda practically started crying as she whimpered, in the most pathetic voice she could muster, "No…"

"Well, no matter. If they've let you out of DeathKnell, you can handle them. Gnolls are vicious, vile creatures of the Scourge. They look like hyenas on two legs. I need you to get some of their blood. Well, its not blood, its embalming ichor really, but the apocathary needs some. Once he can engineer a poison from it, we can stop their operation for good."

Drizelda's face looked like she had been hanging on his every word, and she was getting tired of holding it like that. Even so, she managed to ask, "What operation?"

The mayor replied, "Oh, I suppose there's no reason for you to have known, being new and all. Brill's graveyard is big, and we've kept a pretty close watch over it ever since we took over. But, some time before we came, the graveyard overflowed, and the townsfolk made a few mass graves out in the forest. Since they're too far away from town to warrant regular patrols, the gnolls have been digging them up and turning them into more Scourge."

Drizelda's façade dropped, "What?!?!"

"Yes," the mayor replied calmly. "They're some of the vilest things. Every time we drive them out, they come back, and we simply don't have the Death Guards necessary to post a continuous watch. So, one of these days, the apocathary is going to come up with a chemical that works against the embalming fluid that passes for their blood. So, give him a hand and find some more fluid, so he can do some more tests."

Her façade set aside, something dreadful was beginning to build up inside her.

"So…so…they…" she could not find the words. "Thank you for telling me." she said simply. Without another word, she stalked off.

Once outside, she sighted a handful of Forsaken lounging around the blacksmith.

She marched up to them and screeched, "You! All of you! Follow me! Mayor's Orders! We move now!"

They looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her. No point in getting nailed for questioning orders.

She marched straight to the graves, her steps unnaturally fast, the rest running to catch up, and the Darkhounds shrinking away at the sight of her leading the group. A feeling had begun to rise that she had been trying, successfully up until now, to replace with sorrow and bitterness and numbness. But, now with the knowledge of this latest atrocity, with the knowledge that many, many more were being sucked to a fate far worse than hers, right under her nose, she was unable to summon any feeling but…. anger was too mild a word. Wrath. Fury. Hatred. Rage. Every time she repeated the thought, the thought of more being woken from their rest, to be pulled to the most horrible slavery, her steps quickened and her eyes burned brighter, with an intensity she had never before known. Every time she repeated the thought, her hands twitched and her rage burned higher. Every time she repeated the thought, her retinue wondered who it was that led them.

By the time she got close to the grave site, she was beginning to lose control. When she saw the first gnoll, out on patrol, she stopped for a moment as it turned to look at her. She locked eyes with it, and saw only malice. It locked eyes with her, and saw more bones. It gave an evil mockery of a hyena's cackle, and rushed her, slavering, "Fresh meat!"

But, Drizelda didn't even hear the words. At the laugh, she had broken.

One of her impromptu party, a hunter, saw the gnoll rush and readied his gun. As he looked down the sights, he wondered why she hadn't done anything yet. As he led his target by just the right amount, he prepared to squeeze the trigger, then saw something that would stay in his mind for a long time to come.

Drizelda completely snapped, charging forward with a banshee's scream on her lips. She thrust her palm out before her, and a blast of holy energy smashed the gnoll off its legs. It regained its footing only see a mace head, about to pulverize its skull. It moved it shovel to block, and the mace whipped down in mid-flight to instead slam into its stomach, a hand coming up and over the shovel to latch onto the gnoll's head. Faster than it could react, its head was torn clean off by a second bolt of power. Drizelda didn't hesitate before she was off after the next one. She was far ahead by the time the hunter took his eyes off his gun sight.

As she laid eyes on the next one, she charged again, putting the full force of her powers into the blow, and this time, the gnoll was completely wrapped in fire, burning away to ash in an instant. She whipped around the see the next charging for her, and met it with her mace, smashing the arm that clumsily tried to swing a shovel at her, and thrusting the blunt point of her mace through its face and out the back of its skull. She whipped her head around, to see a group of five running at her.

Not even looking back to see how far behind her comrades were, she yelled. It was not so much a command as it was the release of all the anger and bitterness she had accumulated since her undeath, found focus around this horrid group of gnolls. Her eyes alight with fire, her heart ablaze with vengance, her body screaming for another kill, and her soul thrashing for a chance to justify this wretched state, the words left her lips with such ferocity that the gnolls stumbled in their charge, and her allies behind her stumbled in theirs. Barely understood against the force of the scream, all of her emotions coming to a violent crescendo, the words were there, "KILL THEM AAAAALLLLLLL"

Holding that last syllable, she charged them, alone, throwing her spells of power as though it took no more effort than waving her hand. Smashing through bones with her mace, and tearing rotten arms from their sockets, as if she were destroying straw dummies. All five lay dead before her allies could get to her.

Without even sparing a glance back, she rushed over a small rise to the gravesite. As she topped it, she could see that a large wagon was in the process of being loaded with a large number of corpses, but that her scream had alerted the rest of the gnolls, and they had stopped. A wicked smile crossed her face. 'Nice timing.', she thought to herself. She regained her composure for a moment to look back at her approaching allies. The strange fire still very much alight in her eyes, she said, simply, "I count around thirty. If any of you do not do your utmost, I will kill you myself. We move now."

The seven Forsaken looked at each other. None wanted to cross her. When they looked back, she was already charging down the hill.

She cut through the first line of gnolls so quickly they had no idea what had hit them. Once past them, she quickly found herself surrounded, with her allies on the other sides of a continually thickening line of gnolls. Cackling, having totally lost control, she shouted, "Taste your essence turned upon yourselves, scum!" Then, in the language of magic, "Call the worm from the earth, the ash from the fire, the murk of the waters, and the rot from the very air itself. All wither and fade away, Devouring Plague!" As her spell bore down upon the gnolls, she sensed what kept their decaying bodies alive, the awful lynch pin that held them together. She mentally wrapped her fingers around it, and, with a sick smile, she pulled with magical force.

The gnolls around her blew away into ash in mid stride.

She looked around, and her allies were faring well against the rest of them. With the last vestiges of her rage, she finished them off. It was only then, when her allies were staring at her, that she looked down and noticed the gashes and broken bones covering her body, the desperate attacks the gnolls had made when they knew they would not last; the attacks she had of course, not felt, but that she had failed to notice. She felt the terrible magic binding her together begin to shudder under the strain of the wounds, and a smashed knee gave way beneath her. Then, in the let-down of her berserker's rage, she said, "Good work, troops." before she fell into blackness.


	11. Quick Exit

She awoke some time later in her room at the Gallow's End. As she sat up weakly, she found that she was alone. She had no idea how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was becoming so angry she was afraid that she would lose control, and then spotting one of those horrible gnolls. Limply getting out of bed, she checked her equipment. All there. She was pretty beat up, but that didn't matter, because the magic holding her together seemed to be just fine. Shrugging, she went to the door to look for some answers.

As soon as she stepped out of her room, a Death Guard approached her. "How are you?"

Drizelda looked surprised. "Much better, thanks, but I seem to have lost my memory."

The Death Guard smirked. "Lost your memory, eh? Well, it _seems_ that you just single handedly annihilated an entire camp of gnolls."

Drizelda looked back blankly. "I what?"

The Death Guard laughed. "You must have had quite a beating. You've been out for the better part of two days, and now you can't even remember? Listen, the rest of your party is waiting downstairs, but why don't you take a minute and gather yourself up first?"

She nodded absently and stepped back inside her room. She took the Death Guard's advice, but failed to recover her memory, so she figured the only thing to do was get back out there and get some answers.

As she stepped down the final flight of stairs, all eyes turned to her. The hunter from before yelled, "All hail Drizelda, Gnoll-Slayer!"

"All hail!"

She was instantly swept up by the mob, riding on a wave of success that she wasn't aware she had earned. She tried her best to act like it, though, as she heard snippets of her accomplishments:

"…ya see her? Turned 'em ta dust, I tell ya! twelve, gone, jus' like that…"

"…took 'is head clean off…"

"…went crazy! Most people would smash with a mace, but she has to go and poke it clean through the wrong way…"

"…or she'll tear out yer arm!"

She seemed to have instantly made friends of the entire town. The rest of the day was spent in dramatic re-enactments of whatever she could glean from the conversations around her. When she finally retired to her room, she was exhausted. As she hit her bed, she thought how funny it was how many friends you could make so quickly. And how, a week from now, they would all doubtless have forgotten.

* * *

Despite her depressing thoughts, however, news of her tale reached into the upper levels of the Forsaken command, where her name was never mentioned without a good note.

And, in her next few missions, Drizelda took note of the subtle increase in respect. It didn't happen overnight, but the combined effect of the rumors surrounding her gnoll camp escapade, her newly perfected groveling ability, and simply the lack of too many others doing the same thing, gave her a quick edge. And, as she was assigned more and more difficult missions by the Forsaken, she was granted more and more spells by Hathor. It was a few months more, but as the command began to take more and more notice of her, she suspected that she would soon be assigned to something far more than the simple mop-up and gathering missions she had seen so far. Her suspicions were confirmed when rumors began floating around of a major Scourge assault, nowhere near the Bulwark. She decided that, if she was ever going to get out of this to see Richard, now was her chance.

It shocked her to look back on the date, but a year and a half had passed. It had taken her months in DeathKnell before she was assigned to hunt the Scarlet Crusade, then another two weeks to do that. She had spent months in Brill as well, and she knew they were about to assign her to SilverPine Forest. Thanks to her Scarlet Crusade hunt, she now knew how to deal with any Alliance that she came across, though hopeful her new Mind Soothe spell would make sure it didn't come to that. Now was her chance.

Walking resolutely into Undercity, she bought the darkest, heaviest, most-inconspicuous looking cloak she could find. She wished it was winter; that would make the cloak all the more commonplace, but it was only fall. She shrugged, knowing that she had no other alternative. She walked up to he bat master, drew him aside, and said, "I'm on a mission. What the closest you can get me to Stormwind, and quick?"

The bat master, used to ignoring his patron's reasons, looked a bit shocked at this, but ignored it.

"Well, I could get you to Kargath, then to Grom' Gol…"

"Perfect." She slapped four gold down in his palm, almost all she had managed to save. "Nobody knows I left here, and you give me the fastest, most reliable bat you have."

His eyes widening at the money, he nodded.

* * *

Even though she had never ridden a bat before, her determination quelled her queasy stomach. The black of night was just beginning, so she hardly even saw he landscape soaring by underneath her. A few hours later, she quietly dismounted at Grom'Gol, and paid the batmaster a few silver to forget her presence. It wasn't long before she was within sight of Stormwind. 


	12. Homecoming

Her cloak pulled as low as it could go over her face, she approached the gates. Using her Mind Soothe, she soon got past the town guards.

As she walked back into her hometown in the dead of night, she did not allow herself to feel anything, she simply walked along as if this were some other mission for the Forsaken. If she let herself feel, then she knew she would run. A thousand thoughts pounded at her head. 'I can't let Richard see me this way. At least if I disappear, he'll have only happy memories of me.' 'What if he's already found somebody else?', was another. 'What if he's not here?' 'What if he's dead?' 'What if-'

She let that part of her mind prattle away hysterically as she plodded on through her old streets. She was here to do one thing, and one thing only. He was still alive, that much she knew. Whether he still thought of her was irrelevant, since he certainly wouldn't now. But, she still had one more thing to do. And, using the iron will which was a far cry from the dancing missionary of two years past, she simply plodded forward.

She took a room at an inn close by, again using her mind soothe to prevent the innkeeper from looking under her hood, then took the route she had known so well to his house. She did not let herself notice the cool night air, the moon and stars shining in the sky, nor anything else she would have if the situation had been different. She simply put a letter on the doorstep, knocked loudly until she saw a lit candle, and, using her hard-won skills, vanished into the night.

Back at the inn, she sat in a chair in her room, her hood covering her face, a million thoughts racing through her mind. 'What if he isn't home?' 'What if he's got another girl up there and he's afraid?' 'What if he thinks I abandoned him?'

Again, she let her mind prattle on with meaningless concerns. Either he would come, or he wouldn't. If he did not, she would find out whether or not he had gotten the letter. If he had not received it, she would track him down and give him another. She didn't have to wait long to find out. She soon heard pounding steps in the hall, and Richard burst into the room.

At that moment, her resolve almost faltered. She wanted with all her being to run to him, to cry in his arms and evaporate the nightmare. That was even before seeing his face. When she looked into his eyes, they were filled with something that dispelled all of her doubts in an instant. Concern. Excitement. Disbelief. Hope. Everything that said that letter had not scared him, but was the best news he had ever heard. "Well?!" He blurted. "The letter said you have information on Drizelda! Is she alive?!" When he got no response, he rushed up to her, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. "Come on! Out with it man! Is she alive!"

As he shook her, the hood slipped off. His face flashed between joy and then confusion as he noticed her lusterless eyes and scratched face. At his look, her will suddenly vanished, and she broke down, crying huge, racking, tearless sobs into his arms. She could barely speak through it all, "Richard. I-I thought I would never-" here she collected herself a bit, "never see you again." She broke down once more. "You wouldn't believe…" Her voice cracked once more. "You wouldn't believe what I've been through."

He was silent for a long time, before replying through his own tear stained eyes. "I thought I had lost you, but I knew you were still alive… but…by Hathor, what have they _done _to you?!" He pushed her into a chair, and demanded, his voice filled with concern, "Tell me who did this to you! Before that, tell me _what_ they did! Before that, tell me how you survived the Scourge attack…on …on your…ship…" His voice trailed off. It had suddenly hit him. "Oh, no, don't tell me…" Fear that he would run out of the room racing through her, Drizelda sadly nodded and bowed her head.

They were both still for a very long time. Expecting to hear running footsteps, she was shocked when his hand pushed her head up by the chin. Richard was kneeling in front of her. "How…on earth…did you escape?"

"You, you aren't going to ….?"

Richard laughed nervously. "To what? _Kill_ you? As if I could do that!"

"I…I am this abomination now, if you hadn't noticed."

Richard glared at her sternly. "_You_ are still you. No matter what happened to your body, you're still inside. That's all I care about. I know you had no hand in this. Now, calm down, and tell me what happened. In fact, let's get out of here. My house will be better."

But as he made to pull her to her feet, she stayed put. "No, I don't want anybody to see me like this. Here is fine." As he sat back down, she told him everything. How her ship had been attacked. How the Forsaken had brought her back, and how she had ran away. Then how she had resolved to die trying, and how Hathor had shown her that she needed to keep living. And how she had simply steeled herself, and worked day and night for them, just to get a chance to come back here. How she had grown stronger than anyone she had ever known. And how, every day the powers that Hathor granted her saw her through, and every night, thoughts of him had kept her going. And now, she had finally managed to get enough clout in the ranks, and here she was.

Richard was silent for a moment as she finished her tale. Finally he managed, "Well, aren't you glad I was there for you the whole time?" It wasn't a particularly good joke, but it set them both laughing. Laughing for a long time. They both laughed the kind of laugh you get when something isn't really funny at all, but you just need to laugh. They laughed and laughed, just glad to be back in each other's arms.

When they collected themselves, Richard simply said, "I can't believe this happened. To you, of all people. You've been through hell, Drizzie. I can't believe how you managed it."

She shook her head. "Neither can I. All I do know is that there must have been a reason behind all of this madness, because Hathor has given me more spells than I've even heard of. And that's what saw me through."

Richard nodded. "Well, I'm just glad to have you back. What am I saying? I'm glad to have _me_ back! You had no idea how I was going to rake you over the coals for…for I don't know, not being here, but I can hardly do that now, can I? I nearly died when I heard about your ship… I don't know what I'm saying right now. Let's go to the temple and find a way to get you out of this rotten…"

He kept speaking, but Drizelda had stopped listening. This was the moment she had dreaded. "No." She cut him off, her voice filled with her old determination and her new sadness.

"What?"

"There is no way."

Richard looked confused, "But, but there must be..."

Dizelda went over the speech in her mind, before saying softly, "If there was a way, the Forsaken would have used it on themselves already. They don't know how. If there was a way, we would have used it on the Scourge. Life only flows in one direction, and I'm just stuck at Death's door." Taking her eyes from his, she reached around the back of her neck, saying, in a monotone voice to keep it from breaking, " There's no way I could ever go back to my old life, and there's no way I can inflict this new one on you."

She undid the clasp on his necklace, took it off, and placed it in his palm. Still without looking at him, she whispered, "I came back here for one reason. To see your face again. To tell you how you saw me through. And-and to say goodbye. For these past few years, you've made my life worth living."

**A/N Okay, at his point, I couldn't decide how to end it. (Rather, my sister hated the one ending with a passion, so I made another one.) So, there are two endings. Tell me what you think. **


	13. Ending

Begin Ending #1

With that, she stepped past his shocked form and into the hall. She didn't get two steps. "Where are you going?", Richard's shocked voice followed her. She paused and without turning around, said, "Back to the Forsaken. Where else? I have no place here anymore."

"What about your family? What about your friends here? What about me? Are you just going to leave us all behind?"

It was a moment before she replied, "Don't make this any harder for me than it already is. You know as well as I do that I could never find a home here again. Not because of any of you, but I would be targeted by more people than I care to count right now. People here, in this city, who would want me dead simply for who I am, and those within the Forsaken, thinking I am a spy. You tell everyone else what happened here. I'm going."

"You think any of your friends would care? You think I care? If you think for a minute that your own family would hesitate for a second to trade seeing you again in exchange for a bit of danger, you're sadly-"

"DAMN it, Richard!" She whirled around to face him. "You have no idea what I'm mixed up in! You've never even left this town! You think you're being brave by saying you'll risk it, but you don't even know what it is you're risking! Well, I do know, and I'll be damned if I'm going to drag anybody else into this horrible life."

Richard walked up to her, very slowly, and said, "You misunderstand. I'll risk it without knowing because I would risk anything for you. If I would have known where you were, I would have come looking for you despite the odds."

Part of her jumped and swooned at this, but her newfound determination wasn't so sure. She looked him squarely in the eyes, and asked, after a brief hesitation, "You would die for me?"

He looked right back, and without hesitating, replied, "Yes, I would die for you."

A part of her was very convinced, but another part had to be sure. She walked back into the room. "If you truly mean to die, then you had better know what you're doing. Dying, heroically or not, isn't all its cracked up to be." She took a scroll and quill and ink from her pack. "If you're truly serious, then write out your will. And, include everyone. Before you do, call their name to mind, and their face. Your mother and father. Your brother and sisters. Alice. Frederick. That other Richard who lives across the street. Adeno at the temple. Keith. Everyone. I won't let you get caught up in the moment and do this to yourself. Following me is a death sentence, and if you can't quite remember what that means, then this should remind you. You have a future ahead of you, and I don't. So, if you think you can do this, then think on what you're giving up."

A part of her wanted to stop all this silliness and just take Richard with her, and sort out the details later. But, her time among the Forsaken had hardened her too much for that. She knew that people, especially sheltered ones who had never even seen a fight, much less participated in one, were all too eager to jump into things they knew nothing about. She had to show him that this was not a game, or a romantic romp in the woods. It was serious.

As he wrote the letter, Richard said, "You sure have changed."

She nodded.

"The Drizelda from a year ago would never even know how to speak those words."

She nodded once more.

"But, you're still you, deep down in there."

She hesitated a moment before nodding again. Looking over his shoulder, and glancing into his eyes she saw that he was doing as she had instructed. She sighed in exasperation. A part of her was still elated that he was going through with this, but the majority was exasperated with his stupidity. At a loss for what else she could say to dissuade him, she sighed, "Are you _sure_ you want to do this?"

With out taking his eyes from the page, he responded, "I'm still not making myself clear. You said I have to realize what I'm giving up. I do. Live my entire life like I have been for the past year? That's no future for me. My friends and family? They will understand." Then, he turned and looked her in the eye. "I'd be giving up everything if I didn't go."

With that, all of her knew, every part, with out a shadow of a doubt, that there were no more questions.

She matched his steely gaze with her own. "All right, then." Instantly, her face broke down into a grin, a very unsettling one, given the current situation of her face. "Who knew that you would have changed, too? I honestly expected that same old Richard, a big softie, just like me."

Richard grinned back, taking no notice of her face. "Yeah, well, losing your other half can have some profound changes on your life."

They left the scroll with the innkeeper, and stopped only to gather Richard's supplies and two horses. "By the way." she asked him, still not quite sure this was real, "Can you fight? I assume those 'profound changes' didn't include any miraculous burst of marital skill. "

He chuckled. "About as well as I could before."

"We'll be going into a battle. Soon. That's why I had to come now."

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Hathor has granted me a few spells. Speaking of which…"

Their last stop was to Hathor's temple. Then, they vanished into the night.

* * *

They talked little on the way back. When they did it was to reminisce about the old times, before any of this had happened. But, their conversation was understandably subdued. Grom'Gol outpost soon came within sight on the horizon. "This isn't the main force, you understand. This is pretty small, but it's the branch for this region.", Drizelda mentioned monotonously. Richard pulled his horse in front of hers, and stopped. He whispered, not quite meeting her gaze. "When did you learn to talk like that?" He lifted his gaze to hers. "That's not you talking. That's this damn, miserable life you've been forced into. Don't get me wrong, I'm ready to do this. I'll follow you wherever you go. But, please, let me hear _you._ The you from before." He smiled slightly. "I know you're in there." 

Drizelda looked towards the outpost and, deciding that they were at a safe distance, let herself go. They both dismounted, and once more she broke down in his arms.

"Why did it have to be this way? Why?!" she practically screamed at him.

As she dropped her head once more, he shushed her. "I don't know, Drizzie, I really don't have the answer. At least, I'm here now. At least, I'm never leaving your side again."

When they finally reached Grom' Gol, Drizelda was once again composed. "Let me do the talking from here on. If anybody asks, you're my informant.", was all she said as they approached, and Richard simply nodded. Richard got some evil looks, but Drizelda waved them all away with a simple, "He's with me."

* * *

As they reentered Forsaken territory, Drizelda's reputation paid off. Richard stayed close to her, and every time he got a vile look, Drizelda would make some comment about the value of information, or if they would question orders. It wasn't long before massive Forsaken movements, along with a handful of Ors, Trolls and Tauren, started massing at Zoram'gar, Splintertree, and BloodVenom Outposts, a continent away.

* * *

They had barely finished their deployment before the Scourge mounted a major assault on Auberdine, a poorly defended Night Elf village in the far North. A continent away from the Scourge threat, they had never expected the plague ships to appear on the horizon. With the attack coming in the dead of night, and reinforcements for Teldrassil cut off, their village had no chance of victory. As the tiny detachment of defenders rushed out to engage the Scourge, they knew they were facing certain doom. However, before they could meet, the Forsaken stepped in. They poured in from both sides, flanking the attacking Scourge. The battle was fierce, but now the odds were even. 

Towards the break of the dawn, as the tide of battle shifted overwhelmingly against the Scourge, a man and a woman huddled behind the lines for a brief respite.

"Do you know how many people are in that village?"

"Maybe a hundred, give or take."

"Some people would call you noble, for doing this."

"Some people would say the battle isn't over."

As they picked themselves up to rush back into the fray, one said to the other, "Before we die, I just want to say that I love you."

The other chuckled. "Some last words."

In the end, the Scourge were beaten back. The Forsaken took heavy losses, and vanished into the night, with only the words, 'remember who saved you this day' scrawled into a large tree. Only three elven defenders were killed.

Among the countless, nameless corpses, two unsung heroes were among them. Though nobody knew their achievements and few remembered their names, Richard personally held the battle line no less than eight times with his spells when it had been about to break. Drizelda directly killed thirty scourge, and saved the entire Night Elf detachment. In so doing, she channeled too much magical force, exceeding her limits. Her body was never found.

Were it not for both of their efforts, the Forsaken may well have lost the battle. In addition, Drizelda's tireless work for the Forsaken allowed them to be much stronger and better equipped than they otherwise would have. They may have given their lives, but they died as heroes.

**A/N My sister loathed this ending, so I wrote a different one.** **Tell me what you think.**


	14. Alt Ending

**A/N This is the second, happier ending I wrote to placate my sister (and, she still hated it. Oh, well.) But, I'm really not sure if I'm good at this sort of writing. So, read the second half of this with a critical eye, and please tell me what you think. To sappy? Too corny? Not believable? Good? Because I can't really tell how well it turned out. **

**Oh , and I made up Avenglade (back in the beginning) to explain in part where some of the High Elves went, even though it's not in the game. Now, I find out Blizzard already explained it; they're the Blood Elves. **

**smacks head, then proceeds to conveniently ignore the existence of Blood Elves **

**I wrote this before Burning Crusade came out, so there. **

Begin Ending #2

With that, she walked out of the room with a cold determination. Richard whirled after her, "Wait, I can't let you go alone, I-"

She cut him off without looking back. "You'll do nothing of the sort. I won't mince words, Richard. I died back there on the ship. Nothing can change that. I don't know why I'm in this horrible form, but I am, and I can't change it. I just came back here to let you know that…that…", Here she turned around. "That I loved you. I still do. Now I know that you still love me, and I think you know how that makes me feel. What you don't know is how horrible things are out there. And I will never drag you, or anyone else into this horrible mess, no matter how much I want to stay. I said it once, and I'll say it again. Goodbye, Richard. You gave me the best years of my life."

Richard looked stunned for a moment, then shot back, "No! I won't be separated from you again after coming this close! I don't care what you look like now, I just want to be with you! I don't care what the risk is, I'll risk anything! If I'd known where you were, I would have come-"

'Well it's damn good you didn't because you would have been killed for sure!"

Drizelda knew that every word he said was true, and that he _would_ follow her to the ends of the earth. However much she wanted that, she could never forgive herself for killing him in the process.

She took a breath, then said, "I know what you're saying is true. And I still love you. That's exactly why I'm doing this." Still facing away from him, she waved her hand, and chains sprouted from the walls, binding his hands and feet. Recognizing the spell, he gasped in confusion.

"But, this is the Shackle Undead spell! How…"

"Being undead myself, I've been able to use it differently", was her only response, the monotone voice she used the only indication that she was trying with all her might to hold to this decision. Richard tried to break the spell, but she was far more advanced, and it was no use. The chains brought him to his knees. She knelt beside him, and said, in a voice that broke slightly from the monotone, "Following me would be a death sentence. Do you expect me to kill the one I love?"

Richard was speechless as she stood up once more and turned to the door. He knew she was right, but he didn't care! He wanted to be with her! She was more important than even his life! The past year, if nothing else, had proved that.

At the door, Dizelda stopped, and turned. "There is one thing you can do for me."

Richard snapped his head up. "What? Anything, just name it, and I'll do it! I don't care if I die, I just want to…" She let him finish his tirade, then once he ran out of words, she said , her voice breaking, "You…You…you- live well enough for the both of us you hear me?! Well enough for the both of us! Swear it!"

At this, Richard hung his head and slumped forward, the chains the only thing holding him up. When he looked up, she was gone.

* * *

She headed back to Grom'gol full of resolve. At least Richard was safe. That was all that mattered. Once she was back at the Undercity, she soon heard the news that the Scourge were moving towards Auberdine, and so were they. Without thought, she shouldered her pack.

* * *

She leaped out of the bushes for the counterattack, smashing the Scourge's flanks along with the rest of the Forsaken. She laid waste with her powers and her mace, cutting through the mindless hordes to reach the embattled Night Elves. Once she did, she healed them all as best she could, and turned back to support a bulging battle line. She knew that she had reached and passed her limit by healing all of them, but she knew it had to be done.

As she turned, a zombie's axe bit deep into her chest, and she knew she was gone. As she stumbled towards the ground, the Elves she had just rescued charged towards her position, cutting down the zombie and rushing to reinforce the line. As she dropped to both knees and barely held herself up with her arms, the Forsaken magic slowly ebbing away through her wound, she had a sudden moment of clarity. All that she had done for the Forsaken for the past year flashed through her mind, and she suddenly understood how the army surrounding her was stronger for it. Much stronger. It had not been her alone, but without her efforts, they would have been much weaker. She saw the hundred people in the village who were safe because of her. She thought of Richard, heartbroken but still alive, back in Stormwind, a continent away. Far, far away from this blasted place.

She looked up, and saw that the Scourge were being beaten back. As her wound opened even more and the last bits of magic binding her together began to seep away, she thought, 'So, this is what it feels like to be hero.' "Hathor…"she muttered, before falling forwards. A nameless corpse on a nameless battlefield, she was the only one who died with a smile.

* * *

Richard heard the news mere weeks later. The Scourge had attacked Auberdine, in force. There was no way that their tiny detachment could have held them off. The Forsaken had counterattacked out of nowhere, and beaten them back. Richard knew she had died in the assault. The fact that she had helped save hundreds of lives, perhaps even Teldrassil itself, was small consolation. It wasn't long before he made his decision.

As he disembarked into Avenglade, he asked a passerby if they knew the location of Hathor's church. "Oh, yes," he replied. "I go there now and then, it's doing quite well." 'I suppose that's some small consolation.' Richard thought glumly to himself. He still couldn't believe what had happened, but he had decided that the best way to honor her memory was to go and assist the Avenglade mission she had started.

As he reached the doors, a young woman came out to greet him. "Hello there. Welcome."

He pushed his sad thoughts aside and replied. "Hello there. I'm Richard, and old friends of Drizelda's, and-"

"Oh, you know Drizelda? Really! On, you must be _the_ Richard. Well, welcome. I'm Matilla, and I was a good friend of hers here. What's new with her?"

All the feelings came back at hit Richard at once. At his look, she gasped. "Something terrible happened, didn't it?"

"Is there some place we can talk? This isn't really easy for me to say."

"Of course, of course…" She led him into a side room, a worried look on her face.

As he recounted his story, both of them, first him, and then her, broke down and cried. "I…I can't can't believe something so terrible happened…"It was a horrible fate. "But", Richard said with a last sob as he finished his tale, "At least she died a hero, which is more than I can say."

Matilla put her hand over his. "I don't want to hear any of that talk. She _protected_ you. She loved you so much that she wanted you to _live,_ no matter what. There was no point in you going there to die."

"But, at least I would have died with her!"

Matilla frowned. "Is that something she would want? I know her, and we both know the answer to that."

Richard was at a loss. "I know that. But it doesn't make this any easier."

Matilla nodded in sympathy. "I know. But, does the knowledge that your betrothed died defending you and yours help?"

Richard shrugged. "Not really. It should, but it doesn't. Besides", he chuckled, "That's the man's job, not the woman's."

Matilla laughed at that. "Well, be that as it may, this is how it happened, and there's nothing either of us can do to change it. We just have to respect what she's done, rather than cry over her loss."

Richard managed a weak smile. "You're good at this."

Matilla smiled back. "I try."

There was a pause. "On an entirely different subject, do you have a place to stay?"

Richard shook his head. "No I only got here about-" he glanced out the window, and saw that it was already dark. He had been so engrossed in memories, that he had not noticed her light candles. "About several hours ago, I guess. Wow, it's late. I had no idea."

"Well", Matilla said with a smile. "Any friend of Drizelda's is welcome in my house. You can stay there until you find somewhere else." Her eyes took on a glazed look. "She was truly a good person. Not only a good friend, but just a good-hearted person."

Richard nodded. 'Tell me about it', he thought to himself.

Matilla laughed. "You just _couldn't_ get her to break the rules. There was one time…" They stayed up until the dawn, talking about Drizelda and their memories of her.

* * *

When the sun did rise, they were sitting on the front steps to watch it.

They broke their laughter with a solemn moment just as it broke the horizon.

"She will be missed."

"Yes, she will."

They sat in silence for another moment.

"Just how long has it been?" Matilla asked quietly.

A pause.

"Months. I've forgotten the date."

Matilla thought for a moment, then said,

"Tell me again. What were hear last words to you?"

They had been said with such force and emotion that Richard shuddered. He had not recalled them for weeks. 'You…You…you- live well enough for the both of us you here me?! Well enough for the both of us! Swear it!'

Matilla saw his shudder, and responded, before he could say them, "I know what they were, you told me. I wanted you to remember. Have you been keeping your promise?"

He shook his head.

"Is this what she wanted for you? Is this what she saved you for?"

Once again, he shook his head.

"I know that you need some time. But, if you've come here, that means you've had time. Time to grieve. Now, it's time to keep your promise."

"And, how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that? My life's been turned upside down."

The sun had cleared the horizon and was rising slowly. They could hear a few sounds of activity from faraway farms, but nobody in town was up yet.

Matilla shrugged. "Turn it right side up again."

Richard snorted, half in laughter and half in contempt. "Easier said than done."

Matilla stared back down at the ground, and suddenly, for apparently no reason at all, remembered a conversation she had with Drizelda, so long ago;

"Argh! I hate this! She had shouted at Drizelda. "You have a man! Denise has a man! Rachel found one within a week of getting here. Why can't I have one!" She had shrieked jokingly. "Damn you all!" she had chuckled.

Drizelda laughed. "Tell you what, when I get back home, I'll send you one back. Just you wait." They had both laughed over it, and soon 'When are you leaving so I can get my man' was a little inside joke.

Matilla got the most confounded expression on her face. 'No.' She thought. 'It _can't_ be…no way…' She whipped around, almost swearing that she could have heard Drizelda's faint laugh. Richard turned his head, asked, simply, "What?"

"Did you…hear…anything just now? "

"Can't say that I did." his voice was monotone.

Matilla looked down, and smiled just a bit. There was no way…but still…

She shivered tellingly. "It's cold."

Richard shrugged. "I suppose so."

"Mind of I sit closer?"

"Suit yourself." He replied glumly.

She scooted up next to him, and put her arm around his shoulders. Looking into his face, she saw tears in his bloodshot eyes. "I think maybe you need some rest. We've been up all night." He nodded, and she led him back to her house, her arm around his shoulders all the while. She put him to bed, made him some tea, and told him she would be back as soon as she got somebody to cover for her at the front door. He was already asleep before she finished her sentence. She smiled, and was back before he awoke.

When he woke back up, his head was a little clearer, and this time he got the hint.

And, both of their lives were indeed turned rightside up. Their first child was a daughter, and they named her Drizelda, after the hero they both had the fortune to know.

**A/N So, that's it! Hope you liked it. Let me know what you think, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Oh, and before I forget, here's my ripped off quote alert. I'm sure some of these quotes appear elsewhere, but here's where I ripped them off.**

"**Life only flows in one direction."-Full Metal Alchemist Movie (I can't stand FMA because of Tucker. He ruined that whole series. I don't care what happens to him anymore, death is too good for him.)**

"**You would die for me?" -Pitch Black (Awesome survival/sci-fi movie!) **

"**You live well enough for the both of us, you hear me?!" –The Prestige  
(If you haven't seen this movie, you need to.)**


End file.
